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Cursive front man Tim Kasher has never been much for subtlety.
Be it lyrics about outright heart-crushing topics, riotous sandpaper shouts or punch-in-the-gut guitars, Kasher’s music with Cursive isn’t for the faint of heart.
And that’s the whole appeal — leave politeness for the radio pop, it’s time for torture.
So when the overstuffed Columbus, Ohio crowd spilled onto the low stage last night at dive bar/rock madhouse The Summit, compromising Kasher’s amplifier, he didn’t hesitate to speak his mind.
“I know we’re attractive people,” he said. “Believe me, the times I’ve masturbated in the mirror… But take a step back. I promise, we’ll look the same.”
What a sweetheart.
But the crowd’s foaming frenzy wasn’t unfounded — Kasher’s impassioned, atonal-as-always holler could peel paint. And for a band that specializes in uncomfortable, churning and chugging rock’n’roll, that’s quite a complement.
The stage at The Summit is about as big as a billiards table, but Cursive played gorgeously haunted as ever, with a set frontloaded with the driving “Dorothy at Forty,” the back catalogued wall of sound “Sink to the Beat” and the thrashing, twisted “Art is Hard.”
Unreleased track “We’re Going to Hell,” far from what its title would suggest, eased on the agony. The track is a haunted slow dance with Kasher’s falsetto of the title repeated over shallow, cymbal-heavy drumming and crawling keyboards — like U2’s “One” for the beautifully demented. The tune was a welcome respite from the organized chaos of the rest of the show, and the kids in the front, whose shins were pressed tight against the stage, needed the break.
Other new tracks, including almost majestic, fast-shuffle “The Hips,” found Cursive almost antsy — these Omaha boys are ready to drop a new record.
“All these new songs will be your favorites. This record is fucking brilliant,” said Kasher cheekily. “If you like Cursive like I do, you’ll love it.”
Around the halfway mark, Kasher, who often sang with his face contorted, his hands over his head, began to show a crack in his otherwise flawless performance of anguish set to melody — he was losing his voice.
After the band completed the wild, flailing “Some Red-Handed Sleight of Hand,” Kasher could barely muster up a hoarse, “Thank you.”
Inviting a 21st birthday girl to sing “A Gentlemen Caller” proved not such a good idea — even with Kasher and guitarist Ted Stevens’ help on the microphone, she was as outgoing a front woman as you could expect from a tiny blonde girl being accosted by 200 fans - she stood there frozen, half-mouthing words like she was chewing applesauce.
Kasher bolted from stage to grab a drink, and a minute later returned for a big, hoarse finish — “The Recluse” and “The Casualty.”
By the oft-repeated last line of “It’ll swallow you fucking whole,” Kasher’s voice had slid through a paper shredder and landed on broken glass — barely audible, more a pained, stretched whisper.
The band walked offstage. The crowd jumped on hoping for a setlist, a guitar pick, a vibration. A sign that what they’d just seen was real.
Photo credit: Dana Hupczey
Below: Cursive plays "The Recluse"
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